


in black ink my love may still shine bright

by merthyr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, gratuitous 70s fashion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7850887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthyr/pseuds/merthyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andromeda is sifting through her attic when she happens upon an old box she's never seen before. Inside are letters and notes she thought had been lost to time. </p><p>
  <em>'Dear Ted, I've been thinking about what you said before…' </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in the attic

> _ Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid? _
> 
> _ Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? _
> 
> _ Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? _
> 
> _ O, none, unless this miracle have might, _
> 
> _ That in black ink my love may still shine bright. _
> 
> _                                         --Sonnet 65 _

 

Shoving the crate aside let out a great gust of dust. Andromeda wordlessly banished the cloud and struggled to hold in a horrific sneeze. When was the last time she’d come up here? Not since she’d gotten out her old baby blankets for Dora. Only fifteen years, then. It felt like an eternity, and like no time at all. 

 

She frowned, wondering what had happened to those blankets.

 

Oh, what was she doing, doddering around like a fool? She’d come up here for something. Best get to work again. She moved aside old chests and boxes, hovering the heaviest ones. What a mess. She should come up here and clean it one of these days. What was even in all of these?

 

Andromeda picked up square tin, painted garishly in burnt orange and avocado. There were pictures of silly cartoon animals on the front, dull and immobile-- muggle made. She opened it as soon as she realized, wincing at the lid’s strained screech. Inside was a pile of papers, yellowed and unorganized. She picked one at random and read the first line.

 

_ Dear Ted, _

 

_ I’ve been thinking about what you said before… _

 

Her eyes welled and she let out a shuddering breath. She held the letter to her chest and took a moment to breathe, staring sightlessly out the small attic window.  How long had these been here? He hadn’t kept them all, had he? She swiped at her cheeks before the tears could fall and sifted through the years of letters and notes, until she reached the very bottom of the stack.

 

_ Do you think he he has to comb that mustache? _

 

She laughed. Oh, Ted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write a series of vignettes about the start of Andromeda and Ted's relationship. I always thought that the two of them must have been very brave, especially considering the political climate!


	2. do you think he has to comb that mustache?

She’s pretending not to read Days of Dragon Pox when the boy who sits beside her surreptitiously slips her a note. Edward, Edward something. He was a muggleborn, and she could never keep track of all of their surnames. Edward Tank? Tock? Whatever it was, she’d never met him before and he had no business passing her notes on the sly. Andromeda glances down, expecting the worst.

_Do you think he has to comb that mustache?_

She blinks. What in the world? She casts her eyes to side, more than a little confused. Edward sits with his arms folded in front of him. His face is bland, like every other uninterested student in the room, but his eyes are twinkling. When he catches her looking he wiggles his eyebrows and nods his head towards the front of the classroom.

Professor Greenhorn, their new DADA teacher, _does_ have a rather impressive mustache. It’s thick and long, drooping all the way to the bottom of his jowls. She glances down at the note, at Edward Whatever, and back to her quill.

_He waxes it. My father does as well._

She slides it to the side and wonders at her poor life choices. Greenhorn is a very poor speaker, she tells herself, and you’ve never passed notes before. And didn’t Uncle Alphard say it was good to have new experiences just last month? She thought that he wouldn’t disapprove, even if the experience _was_ a little naughty.

Edward hides a small smile behind his fist. _I’m sure your father has a very nice mustache._

 _It’s alright, I suppose._ She writes honestly, and is genuinely confused when he starts snickering.

 

 

 

“I’m really very sorry.” Says the boy who she now knows is Edward Tonks.

They are scrubbing trophies together after dinner for detention. Greenhorn wasn’t pleased with their interrupting class, and was less pleased by their saucy note. Andromeda hadn’t thought that the contents were that incriminating, but she was too embarrassed to protest the punishment.

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” She mutters under her breath, trying in vain to get a spot off of a plaque. They weren’t allowed their wands; all they were given were rags, water and a bottle of polish. She didn’t even know where to start.

“I didn’t mean to laugh that hard, it’s just-- here, let me see that.” He takes her rag away and starts scrubbing furiously. The spot is gone when he lifts his hand, just like magic. “There we have it. Just needs a bit of elbow grease.”

“A bit of what?”

“You know, a bit of-- Oh, wait.” He covers his eyes bashfully, one hand still holding the rag, and shoots her a self deprecating smile. “Never mind. It’s probably just a muggle thing.”

“Yes, but what is it?” She asks. Elbow grease sounds like a trick answer on a potions quiz. She can’t possibly imagine what strange and profane things muggles do with it.

“It’s not really a thing, to be honest. Just an expression, you know, a turn of phrase?” She tries not to roll her eyes. She knows quite well what ‘expression’ means. “It’s, well… A metaphor for hard work?” He ends , sounding as if he isn’t quite sure himself.

“Oh, well that…” She wrinkles her nose, “That’s quite silly, isn’t it? Muggles come up with the strangest names.”

The look he gives her is pleasant but his eyes tell a different story. “I suppose it is, Andromeda.”

 _Ohh_ , she can hear it in his tone. Andromeda had been teased for her name enough to last a lifetime. And besides that, she likes her name! “Andromeda is perfectly serviceable name. Just as good as _Edward_.”

A slow smile comes out. “Well, I go by Ted, so…”

“That, well--!” There was nothing really to say to that. She sighs. “I suppose I should stop talking. You win, then. I hope you’re happy.”

“There’s nothing to win, Andromeda. We’re just talking. And you’ll need to press a bit harder if you want to get rid of that scuff.”

She narrows her eyes at the plaque in hand. “I hate this, it’s the worst.”

He laughs, “Here. I’ll scrub, you polish. I owe you that, at least. And you know, this isn’t that bad. When I was a kid my house flooded, and the whole first floor was covered in silt. Took me and mum days to get it out from between the floorboards.”

“How dreadful!” She says. The very thought of cleaning floors with ‘elbow grease’ fills her with horror.

“It really was! You see, my family lives next to this river and usually it’s fine, but one year…”

 

 

 

He asks her to call him Ted, and she obliges. She knows she isn’t supposed to be so friendly with boys like him, but he is so very easy to get along with, and she _does_ sit next to him every other day so it’s not like he can be avoided. They don’t talk very much in class, mostly passing notes during lectures or chatting quietly while they work. Is it any wonder that they become acquaintances over the months?

Cissa finds her working with him in the library one snowy winter evening. Despite the fact that nothing suspicious or _unseemly_ is going on, Andromeda blushes when she’s caught. Later that night her sister expresses her concern in the common room.

“He seems like trouble, Andy.” She says, hands clasped by the fireplace.

“We’re working on our semester project together, Cissa.” Andromeda says with a roll of the eyes. She turns a page in the book she’s reading --101 Ways to Catch Cursed Cuts-- and does her best to look studiously uninterested in the conversation at hand. “Besides, he’s a Hufflepuff. How much trouble could he possibly be?”

“I’ve heard he duels some of our boys in the hallways. You really shouldn’t spend so much time with him. People might start to notice.”

“Of course he get into fights, he’s a mudblood.” She shuts her books with a thump and stares imperiously at her sister, “Honestly, love, you’re such a worrywart. We’re doing an essay together. It’s hardly something to write home about.”

Narcissa purses her lips, and Andromeda suddenly realizes that she _will_ write home about this. She loves her, but she can be such a snitch! She sighs and opens her book again. Narcissa knows a dismissal when she sees one, and runs off to find her friends again.

 

 

 

“Well, there you have it.” Ted dots the last sentence of their five foot essay and pushes it away. He has very nice handwriting for a boy, so she took the job of staring over his shoulder and dictating their drafts. Ted turns his head to look at her, that small smile on his lighting up his face. “I bet you’re relieved.”

“Of course I am. Aren’t you?”

He hums, an irritatingly unclear response.

A gaggle of students dressed in green enters the aisle. Andromeda steps away from Ted and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. Ted stares at her knowingly from the other side, a supercilious smile on his face.

She flushes, “I didn’t… it isn’t like that!”

“Oh, sure.”

“I’m not…” She clenches her teeth and leans forwards, whispering. “I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you.”

His smile twists a little, and though she’s never seen it on him before, she thinks he might be annoyed. But when he talks, his tone is as easy going as always, and he laughs before he says, “Is that why you’re whispering, then?”

“No!” She protests. She says it louder than she intended, and the Slytherins on the other side of the stacks stare at her strangely. In a normal, level-headed and completely un-angry voice she says, “I most certainly am not. In fact, I’m cross with you for even suggesting it.”

Ted leans back in his chair and looks at her consideringly. “Then it wouldn’t be strange if I asked you to write me over Christmas Break?

“No, it-- _What_?” He wanted to write her? Whatever for? And why was she considering saying yes? “You want to write to me? You?” She clarifies.

There’s a fine dusting of pink on his cheeks when he replies. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d ask, since I thought we were friends.”

Friends. She hadn’t really thought about it before. She does like Ted, but he was still a muggleborn, and being friends with muggleborns simply wasn’t done. But they’ve been talking for quite some time, since September really, and if she is being entirely honest she likes him a lot more than the girls she’s been friendly with for years. He can be very charming, and she likes the way he challenges her.

She has so much trouble connecting to people. And she doesn’t have to tell anyone.

“I suppose I could.”

He snickers, “You say it like you’re doing me a favor.”

Andromeda rolls her eyes, “I would be _delighted_ to write to you, Mister Tonks.”

  
“Much obliged, Miss Black.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up-- 
> 
> _Dear Andromeda,_
> 
> _Your name is very long. Do you have a nick name?_


End file.
